


Duty

by darthpumpkinspice



Series: context is for kings [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 10:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12408957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthpumpkinspice/pseuds/darthpumpkinspice
Summary: She represents everything he's lost.





	Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so spoilers! Potentially!
> 
>  
> 
> -
> 
> \--
> 
> Okay so basically there's this theory floating around that Tyler is Voq disguised to look like a human. It's a really compelling theory, and there's some good evidence behind it - I'd definitely do a quick google if you're curious about it more. I don't know if the show will actually do that or not, but this fic assumes it's canon. Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

This body is torture, unique and incomparable to any he has ever suffered before. As an outcast, and a son of none, he has endured humiliation, abuse, ridicule, and beatings. As a warrior he grew to be intimately acquainted with exhaustion, physical torment, and agony of the body. Pain is nothing to him- when he had thrust his fist into the flame to appease T’Kuvma, all he felt was a fierce _pride_ at the appraisal of his lord.

When L’Rell told him he would have to sacrifice everything for their cause, he imagined the women of Mokai would subject him to brutal hardships. He had heard of the merciless tortures concocted by their house; it seemed, in the absence honor, sadism came to fill that void. He had not been afraid, but he was foolish, and his imagination had proved lacking. He could not have comprehended this, nor how looking in the mirror, or feeling his own flesh ( _smooth, corrupted_ ) could disturb him in ways the sting of a blade never could.

Perhaps this is his punishment for letting his lord die. He tells himself his reward will be the unification of the Klingon empire, and he will earn forgiveness and a place of honor on the black fleet by making T’Kuvma’s vision a reality. He doesn’t dare say it out loud, but as he smooths down the collar of his Starfleet uniform, he prays to Kahless, reminds himself he endures this agony as T’Kuvma’s heir and torchbearer. It stops the bile from rising in his throat, but only barely.

He’s started to call himself by the assumed name of the human he’s pretending to be- a trick from the spies of the Mokai. It helps him integrate himself in his role, and allows him to be more responsive when his name is called. There are only so many oddities he can play off as lingering trauma from his experience- it’s been over two weeks and Lorca still occasionally looks at him with something inscrutable glittering in his cold eyes.

Lorca’s not the only one assessing him. The rest of the crew has been curious about him, and his time with the Klingons. Michael Burnham seems especially interested in his story. It does not take him long to realize she is also interested in him as a male, for even a human raised by Vulcans is not particularly subtle when it comes to the mating urge.

Her desire repels him initially, but he remembers his purpose, and the reason for his torment. His sacrifice will mean nothing if it does not win for the Klingon empire the _Discovery_ , and the only way to do that as a solitary spy is by ingratiating himself with the members of the crew, and winning their trust.   

This is also better, at least, then fucking Lorca. He’s seen how the Captain stares at Tyler with a hungry look in his eyes, the vaguely predatory smile that crawls up his lips. The man is without honor, and from his lessons with the Mokai he remembers the Terran snake, and the colloquial usage of that word. He finds it appropriate for the Captain.

Michael invites him to her quarters with an unspoken invitation in the mischievous smirk on her lips. Almost immediately after he shuts the door and dims the lights she strips naked, efficiently, almost impersonally. She pulls back, silently letting him admire her – and he does have to admit, there is much to admire. He knows if he were human he would be gripped with lust, and even as a Klingon he still finds beauty in the athletic grace of her body, and the perfect, white gleam of her smile. Then she leans in to kiss him, and he shivers with revulsion as her lips- too soft, too malleable- connect with his. His new body seems to care little for the trivialities of his mind, and reacts automatically. Tyler pulls her closer to him, and closes his eyes, trying to pretend she is L’Rell in all of her savage glory. It doesn’t work. L’Rell would be hard and strong under his touch, not soft and smooth and fragile.

He squeezes Michael’s breasts, and her moan fills him with flare of white-hot hatred for her- the woman that stole his lord from him. He grabs her hard enough to bruise, and bites her lip- to his disappointment, she responds in approving pleasure. She yanks his shirt over his head, and rips his pants down, exposing his new human organ- now erect and pulsating. She kneels before him and runs a tongue down his length before taking it into her mouth. As she sucks on his cock, he has the sudden, delirious thought that the softness of human lips is good for _something_ after all.

The thought has barely passed before Michael is finished with her ministrations, and shoves Tyler down against the bed. She straddles him, and with the same ruthless efficiency as earlier, she pushes him inside of her.

Tyler feels warm, wet, human tightness around him, and the reality of this situation hits him- he’s inside the woman who killed T’Kuvma. He hopes she interprets his grunt of disgust as one of arousal. This is an act of duty, he reminds himself, as she settles down onto his cock. He endures this for his lord and his empire, as he would endure any torture.

To her credit, she fucks him like a Klingon woman would- hard and fast and rough. She wrests her pleasure from him without a care to his, and with a reluctant moan of desire his hips buckle up to meet hers. She comes with a snarl, and in that moment he is forced to admit she looks like a warrior. That thought- coupled with the sudden tightness around his cock as she continues to ride him- causes him to follow not long after, and he spills himself inside of her body. He hisses out a low prayer to Kahless as he does.

Michael lays next to him afterwards, her body tangled up with his. This part disgusts him more than the others, but it is the most important if he wants to gain her trust. So he forces himself to reciprocate the kisses and soft touches, and lets her fingers slowly trace down his human body, as if taunting him. In time his efforts will bear fruit; the vessel and its secrets will belong to the Klingon empire, and its crew will rot in Mokai cells. He strokes Michael’s neck and vows on that day it will be his hands that wrap around her throat to reclaim the life she stole from T’Kuvma. Perhaps the day will not come soon, but he can be patient.


End file.
